"Captain Hilda, everything is open to you."

"I must buy supplies. Then I wish to go to the best restaurant in Windsor City and watch you eat a proper luncheon; we ate breakfast three hours later than you did."

"But I'm hungry," said my husband. "I'm a growing boy."

"Poor Zebbie."

There was not much to buy that would keep. I bought a tin of Huntley & Palmer's biscuits and quite a lot of Dutch chocolate-quick energy for growing boys-and tightly packaged staples.

Brian had us driven to that restaurant just past noon. I was glad that Aunt Hilda had decided to get everything else done before we went to look at vermin.

Even so, I did not have much appetite-until I decided to stand up and forthrightly turn coward. Not look at vermin! Cui bono? Aunt Hilda was the expert.

That restored my appetite. We stopped across the parade ground from Imperial House. We twigged in this order-Zebadiah, Pop, me, Aunt Hilda-that it was the officers' club. She was several meters inside when she stopped. "Brian, what are we doing here?"

"The Captain said '-the best restaurant-'. The club's chef was executive chef at Claridge's until he ran into misfortune. Don't look at me that way, Captain Hilda; the Brigadier picks up the chit; it's charged against 'official visitors' and winds up in London against H.I.M.'s Civil List. Believe me, His Majesty gets paid more than leftenants, or even brigadiers."

But the president of the mess signed the chit-a colonel who told the Hillbilly that he was buying her lunch because he wanted to ship with us as scullery maid.

I was telling Aunt Hilda that I would skip vermin viewing, thank you, when I did. One. Then six. Then a whole field of them. I was explaining to God that I didn't like this dream so please let me wake up when Brian had the conductor halt the contraption and I saw that there were men in that field, too. The men carried whips; vermin were muzzled. This one vermin-well, "wog"-this wog had managed to pull its muzzle aside and was stuffing this weedy plant into its mouth... when a whip cracked across its naked back.

It cried.

The field on the other side of the road was not being worked, so I stared at it, After a while I heard Brian say, "Captain Hilda, you are serious, really?"

"Didn't the Brigadier authorize it?"

"Ah, yes. I thought he was pulling my leg. Very well, Ma'am."

I had to see what this was all about... and discovered that muzzled vermin, afraid of men with whips, weren't frightening; they were merely ugly. Aunt Hilda was taking pictures, movies and stereo. Brian was talking to a man dressed like any farmer except for the Broad Arrow.

Brian turned and said, "Captain Hilda, the foreman asks that you point out the wog you want to dissect."

Aunt Hilda answered, "There has been a mistake."

"Ma'am? You don't want to dissect a wog?"

"Leftenant, I was told that one or more died or was slaughtered each day. I want to dissect a dead body, in an appropriate place, with surgical instruments and other aids. I have no wish to have one of these poor creatures killed."

We left shortly. Brian said, "Of the two, the abattoir and the infirmary, I suggest the latter. The veterinarian is a former Harley Street specialist. By the bye, there is no case of humans contracting disease from these brutes. So the infirmary isn't dangerous, just, ah, unpleasant."

We went to the wog hospital. I did not go inside. Shortly Pop came out, looking green. He sat beside me and smiled wanly. "Deety, the Captain ordered me outside for fresh air-and I didn't argue. Aren't you proud of me?"

I told him that I'm always proud of my Pop.

A few minutes later Brian and Zebadiah came out, with a message from Hilda that she expected to work at least another hour, possibly longer. "Captain Hilda suggests that I take you for a drive," Brian reported.

The drive was only as far as the nearest pub; the sillywagon was sent back to wait for the Hillbilly. We waited in the lounge, where Pop and Brian had whisky and splash, and Zebadiah ordered a "shandygaff'-so I did, too. It will never replace the dry martini. I made it last till Aunt Hilda showed up.

Brian asked, "Where now, Captain Hilda?"

"Imperial House. Brian, you've been most kind."

I said, "Cap'n Auntie, did you whittle one to pieces?"

"Not necessary, Deetikins. They're chimpanzees."

"You've insulted every chimp that ever lived!"

"Deety, these creatures bear the relation to 'Black Hats' that a chimpanzee does to a man. The physical resemblance is closer, but the difference in mental power- Doctor Wheatstone removed the brain from a cadaver; that told me all I needed to know. But I got something that may be invaluable. Motion pictures."

Zebadiah said, "Sharpie, you took motion pictures in the fields."

"True, Zebbie. But I have with me the Polaroids you took for me at Snug Harbor; some show the splints that creature used to disguise its extra knees and elbows. Doctor Wheatstone used surgical splints to accomplish the same with one of his helpers-a docile and fairly intelligent wog that didn't object even though it fell down the first time it tried to walk while splinted. But it caught on and managed a stiff-legged walk just like that ranger-and like 'Brainy' now that I think about it-then was delighted when Doctor Wheatstone dressed it in trousers and an old jacket. Those pictures will surprise you. No makeup, no plastic surgery, a hastily improvised disguise-from the neck down it looked human."

When we reached Imperial House, we transferred packages into Gay Deceiver-again were not permitted to carry; Brian told the conductor, the conductor told his crew. We thanked them, thanked Brian as we said good-bye, and Aunt Hilda expressed a hope of seeing him soon and we echoed her-me feeling like a hypocrite.

He saluted and started toward the officers' club. We headed for the big wide steps. Aunt Hilda said, "Deety, want to share some soap suds?"

"Sure thing!" I agreed.

"Whuffor?" asked Zebadiah. "Sharpie, you didn't get a spot on you."

"To remove the psychic stink, Zebbie."

"Mine isn't psychic," I said. "I stink, I do."

But damn, spit, and dirty socks, we had hardly climbed into that tub when a message arrived, relayed by my husband, saying that the Governor requested us to call at his office at our earliest convenience. "Sharpie hon, let me translate that, based on my eighty years man and boy as flunky to an ambassador. Means Bertie wants to see us five minutes ago."

I started to climb out; Aunt Hilda stopped me. "I understood it, Zebbie; I

speak Officialese, Campusese, and Bureaucratese. But I'll send a reply in clear English, female idiom. Is a messenger waiting?"

"Yes, a major."

"A major, eh? That will cost Bertie five extra minutes. Zebbie, I learned before you were born that when someone wants to ~ee me in a hurry, the urgency is almost never mutual. All right, message: The commanding officer of Spacecraft Gay Deceiver sends her compliments to the Governor General and will call on- him at her earliest convenience. Then give the major a message from you to Bertie that you happen to know that I'm taking a bath and that you hope I'll be ready in twenty minutes but that you wouldn't wager even money on thirty."

"Okay. Except that the word should be 'respects' not 'compliments.' Also, the major emphasized that he wants to see all of us. Want Jake and me to keep Bertie happy until you are ready?" Pop had his head in the door, listening. "We wouldn't mind." Pop nodded.

"Zebbie, Zebbie! After four years under my tutelage. Until I know what he wants I can't concede that he is senior to me. 'Compliments,' not 'respects.' And no one goes until I do... but thank you both for the offer. Two more things: After giving the major my message, will you please find my clothes, all but Deety's Keds, and take them to the car? That's Jacob's shirt, Deety's sailor pants, a blue belt, and a blue hair ribbon. In the car you will find new clothes on my seat. In one package should be three jump suits. Please fetch one back."